


Go get him, Derek

by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Canon Compliant, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Flirting, Fluff, POV Derek, Pre-FBI Stiles, Pre-Season 6b, Reunions, Stiles is at GW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:43:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere/pseuds/HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere
Summary: Derek finds out from a friend that Stiles has entered the pre-FBI program only a few states away.  He races to find him only to find out that Stiles, of course, already knew he was coming.  But that doesn't mean Stiles isn't happy to see his Sourwolf.





	Go get him, Derek

**Author's Note:**

> (I was inspired by the Season 6B promo. This is supposed to be Sterek's reunion prior to them taking on the new evil in Beacon Hills that's threatening the Pack 2.0)

“Yo, Derek!”

Derek looked up from his beer to find Mickey running across the bar towards him, beer in hand.

He rolled his eyes, but the truth was he didn’t mind Mickey so much. Of all the people he had met in Boston, Mickey was certainly the loudest. But he was also the only one who could tell when Derek wanted to be left alone. He was a kitsune, the only one Derek had ever met other than Kira and Noshiko.

“Hey, Mick,” he said as the excited man slipped into the booth across from him.

Mickey was practically bouncing with excitement. “You’ll never guess what I heard from that witch who runs the comic book store downtown.”

“You’re right,” Derek replied dryly. “I’ll never guess.”

Mickey ignored him and continued his story. “You’ve heard about the kid, right? The kid from California?”

Derek’s eyes shot up to Mickey’s face. He had never told anyone where he was from. Derek frowned. There was no way Mickey was talking about who Derek thought he was talking about, right?

He shook his head – there are a lot of kids from California. 

“No?” Repeated Mickey incredulously. “Oh, buckle up, my friend. I’m about to tell you one hell of a story.”

With a resigned sigh, Derek waved at the waitress for another beer. Derek liked this particular bar because he could actually feel the effects of alcohol with their special brew.

“Have you ever heard of a town called Beacon Hills?”

Derek choked on the dregs of his first beer. He rushed to wipe his chin in hopes that Mickey had missed it. “Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah, there used to be a big pack there, don’t know what happened to them.”

Derek closed his eyes and willed himself not to comment.

“Anyway, there’s a small pack there now, led by some ‘True Alpha’ if you can believe it.” Mickey chuckled to himself and downed his beer. He caught a nearby waitresses’ attention and ordered another round for them both, even though Derek’s second beer sat untouched on the table.

“Huh,” Derek offered, trying to keep his heartbeat steady. The bar they were in was supernatural friendly, and he didn’t want to draw the attention of any of the werewolves in attendance. 

“But that’s not even the coolest part,” continued Mickey excitedly. “I mean, they’ve got a few werewolves, a banshee, some other supernaturals,” he rattled off. “I heard they’ve even got a cute kitsune.” He grinned mischievously.

Derek growled sub vocally at the crass mention of Kira, but cut it off when he saw one of the werewolf bartenders eyeing him curiously.

“So the coolest part is the kid. He’s human! And yeah, I know it’s not unusual for there to be a human in a pack, but the things he’s done…” Mickey trailed off in awe.

Derek felt a surge of pride at hearing someone else appreciate Stiles like that, but fought to keep his face blank.

Mickey shook himself out of wherever his mind had gone and continued his story. “This kid, Stills, or something –.”

“Stiles,” Derek corrected without thinking.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “So you do know who I’m talking about?”

Derek cleared his throat before responding. “Kind of,” he admitted.

“Hmm.” Mickey eyed him suspiciously before he launched back into his story. 

It was surreal for Derek to hear the last few years of his life being told to him by a stranger. He clenched his fists under the table to stop himself from correcting a few of the inaccuracies that often come from second-hand retellings. 

When Mickey got to the part about the kanima, Derek couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“He didn’t die, Mickey.” Derek leaned his head back in resignation, steeling himself before reluctantly filling in the gaps of Mickey’s story.

By the time Derek got to the Alpha Pack, every supernatural creature in the bar had gathered around the booth to listen to him speak.

They were falling over themselves to buy Derek drinks to keep him talking, which Derek didn’t mind.

When Derek finished telling them about the Nogitsune, you could hear a pin drop in the bar. The supernatural bartenders had surreptitiously herded all the human patrons out of the bar, and put up the closed sign so that Derek wouldn’t be interrupted.

He heard one of the witches who was sitting on the bar sniffle when he recounted the events surrounding Allison’s death, and paused for a second to finish his drink.

Derek didn’t tell them everything, of course. But he’d told them enough to elicit some gasps, some tears, even a round of applause at one point.

When he finished, the group dissipated slowly. Some of them gave him conciliatory pats on the back or shoulder that Derek didn’t feel he quite deserved.

Mickey shook his head in awe and whistled lowly. “Man, when I came here with info on the kid, I never in a million years would have thought you knew him. Let alone that you’re in love with him.”

Derek’s eyes went wide with shock. “That I’m what?”

Mickey frowned. “Well, yeah. The way you talked about him just now, there’s no way you’re not in love with him.”

Derek sat back with his mouth gaping open, before sitting up straight and schooling his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Sure. Now do you want to know the whole reason I came in here tonight?”

“Oh yeah, you said you heard something about Stiles.”

“Even the way you say his name,” Mickey whispered to himself, shaking his head. “Anyway, I heard he’s on the East Coast.”

“What?” Derek scrambled to his feet but didn’t make any move to leave the bar.

Mickey looked around and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Why did you stand up?”

Derek lowered his voice to match Mickey’s and looked down at himself in confusion. “I’m not sure.”

Mickey just huffed a laugh. “Alright, buddy. Let’s get you home. You can chase after your boy once you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep.”

Derek growled, but didn’t correct him.

When he awoke the next morning, Derek took a second to thank his werewolf healing for his lack of hangover. He reached around to the side table blindly to find his phone. There was a note on top of it.

“Good morning, sunshine!  
I gave you the details last night, but in case you forgot – a buddy of mine in the FBI told me Stiles is in the pre-FBI program at GW.  
You picked a good one. Go get him, Derek.  
Mick”

Derek couldn’t help but smile as he got out of bed. He haphazardly threw a bunch of his clothes into a duffle bag and changed into his trademark jeans, Henley, and leather jacket. 

Nine hours and a lot of traffic later, Derek pulled up in front of the track behind GW. He parked the Camero and donned his aviators, remembering fondly how Stiles’ heart rate used to increase whenever he saw Derek wearing them.

As he rounded the bend and the full track came into view, Derek’s eyes found Stiles immediately. He focused his hearing so he could search for Stiles’ heartbeat, and sniffed the air. Derek could smell the unmistakable scent of Stiles mixed with sweat from almost a hundred feet away.

Following his ears more than his eyes, Derek approached Stiles, who was taking a break from his training to grab a drink on the sideline. 

Derek heard one of the instructors tell the others that they were almost done for the day, so Derek decided to wait before making his presence known.

He sat down on the first row of the bleachers and let himself take a good look at the boy. Boy was no longer an accurate term. Sometime while Derek was gone, Stiles had turned into a man.

Derek saw the way Stiles’ muscles corded around his forearms and biceps as he did push ups. The way his t-shirt clung to his firm back with sweat when he ran. When Stiles pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, Derek caught a glimpse of defined abdominal muscles that certainly hadn’t been there last time he’d been in Beacon Hills.

He closed his eyes, content to simply listen to Stiles’ heartbeat, until he heard the shrill whistle indicating that training was over. Derek opened his eyes again, but couldn’t find Stiles on the field. He was preparing to stand up to search for him when –.

“Hey, Sourwolf.”

Derek jumped a little in his seat, which caused Stiles to laugh delightedly.

Stiles came around from the side of the bleachers and moved to sit next to Derek. 

“How long have you known I was here?” Derek asked, reveling in how sweet the sweat made Stiles’ scent. He concentrated on Stiles’ heartbeat and found that it was steady.

Stiles just chuckled. “Dude, not many people around here drive a Camero. I saw you pull into the parking lot.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles ignored him. “But I knew you were coming, so that’s kind of cheating.”

Derek frowned. “What do you mean you knew I was coming?”

Stiles looked around at all the people on the bleachers and the track. Several were throwing him jealous glares. To his delight, almost as many were looking at Derek with similarly jealous looks on their faces.

“Why don’t we head over to my place and catch up. I need to take a shower anyway.”

Trying to avoid thinking about Stiles in the shower, Derek just nodded and started walking towards the Camero. To his surprise, Stiles joined him.

“You didn’t bring the jeep?” 

Stiles shook his head. “Left it in Beacon Hills.” He opened the door to the Camero and plopped himself down in the passenger seat with a grace Derek wasn’t expecting.

They drove in comfortable silence, only breaking it whenever Stiles had to give Derek directions. They pulled up to an apartment complex about a mile off campus.

“They put us all together,” said Stiles. “Everyone in the program. It costs more than the dorms, but GW gave me a pretty good academic scholarship, so we’re able to swing it.”

Derek followed Stiles up to his floor. There were two apartments per floor, each equipped with a kitchen and living room. There were two bedrooms with a shared bathroom between them.

“Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. I know how much you hate fast food, so you probably haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m gonna hop in the shower.” He disappeared into the bathroom before Derek could ask him how he knew all of that.

Derek peered into the fridge and made himself a sandwich while he waited.

He had just finished when the bathroom door opened, letting the steam out in a whoosh of warm air.

When the steam cleared, Derek almost choked on his water. Stiles was wearing nothing but a low hanging towel. His hair was wet and his chest glistened with droplets of water.

Derek scratched his beard and looked around the apartment pretending to be disinterested in Stiles’ appearance. 

“I’m gonna go change, I’ll be out in a minute.” Stiles grinned at the man knowingly before heading into his room.

Derek was keenly aware that Stiles had failed to close his door all the way, but he busied himself with washing his dishes and putting the meat and cheese away so he wasn’t tempted to peer inside.

Stiles came out and plopped himself onto the couch, gesturing for Derek to join him. Derek sat on the opposite end, determined to put as much space between him and Stiles as he could. Stiles fixed Derek with an unreadable look.

“So where’s your roommate?” Derek asked to break the silence.

“Oh, he’s in a separate part of the program. His specialty is in intelligence gathering, so we’re on different schedules.” 

Derek bit his lip. He saw Stiles’ eyes track the movement before they returned to Derek’s eyes. “And what’s your specialty?”

Stiles shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Since Scott filled his dad in on everything that happened in Beacon Hills, Agent McCall called in some favors. They were ready to stick me in intelligence and call it a day, but he told them to give me a chance at being a field agent. Of course, I don’t blame them for being skeptical.”

“Why,” said Derek with a wry grin. “Because your only official extracurricular activity was bench warming for the lacrosse team?”

Stiles tilted his head back and laughed. “Exactly.”

“Well, I could see you being great at both of those specialties, Stiles.” Derek offered quietly.

Stiles sobered up and attempted a blank expression. His eyes betrayed his vulnerability as he whispered, “Thanks, man.”

Derek leaned forward, towards Stiles. Stiles scooted a little so they were only a couple of feet apart. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles swallowed nervously. “Yeah, Derek?”

Derek was interrupted by an incoming text message on his phone. He rolled his eyes exasperatedly before opening it.

“Who’s Mickey?”

Derek was surprised to find that Stiles had scooted even closer and had read the name off his phone over his shoulder.

“Friend of mine,” Derek grunted, putting the phone back into his pocket without responding to the text.

“From Boston?” Stiles sat back with a smug grin.

Derek huffed. “How did you know I was in Boston? And how did you know I was on my way here?”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the wolf. “Derek, did you really think I would let you leave without having a way to keep tabs on you?”

Derek eyed him incredulously. “Keep tabs on me?”

“Yeah,” said Stiles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, keep an eye on you. Make sure you were ok, and all that.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “How? Why?”

Stiles scoffed. “I’m going to ignore the ‘Why’ part, because duh. But as for how… I developed an app and downloaded it onto your phone about a month before you left.”

Derek whipped out his phone and looked thorough it dubiously. “I don’t seen anything here, Stiles.”

“Well of course not. If you’d found it, you would have deleted it.”

Derek looked from his phone to Stiles warily. “What does it do?”

Stiles straightened up proudly. “It alerts me if you don’t move or unlock your phone for more than 10 consecutive hours.”

“Huh.” Derek quirked an eyebrow at Stiles. “Did it ever send you any alerts?”

“Once,” Stiles whispered, licking his lips.

Derek frowned again, wondering when that might have been. “Do you remember when?”

Stiles chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah. It was about six months after you’d left.”

Derek nodded, thinking back. “I was in Boston then. Braeden and I had split up and she’d gone off to track the Desert Wolf on her own.”

“I told Lydia and Scott I was just going to fly over and see if you needed help. But when I was looking up flights, I realized what day it was.” Stiles was looking anywhere but at Derek.

“The anniversary of the fire,” whispered Derek.

Stiles nodded, still not meeting the wolf’s eyes.

“Wait,” said Derek suddenly. “Is that why Cora flew up the next day?” 

“Yeah,” responded Stiles uncertainly. “I called her to see how she was doing, and told her you guys might want to spend some time together that week. She agreed, and said that you were too stubborn to ask her to come, so she just surprised you.”

Derek smiled at the memory. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles looked up and finally met Derek’s eyes. “No problem, Sourwolf.”

There was silence until - “Why didn’t you call me, Stiles?” Derek gritted out suddenly.

Stiles frowned. “When?”

Derek threw up his hands. “Whenever! I mean, Dread Doctors? The Wild Hunt? You didn’t think of calling for backup?”

“I don’t just think of you as backup, Der!” Stiles shouted. “You got out. You got away from it all. I wasn’t about to be the person who pulled you back in. And anyway, we figured it out. We always do.”

The two were quiet for a moment, not looking at each other.

“So,” said Stiles, changing the subject abruptly. “I saw a duffel in your back seat. How long are you planning on staying in DC?”

Derek shrugged, still annoyed. “How ever long I’m welcome.”

“Well you’re always welcome,” Stiles managed through a grin. “You might want to pick a less dangerous qualifier.”

Derek’s face softened. “I’ll stay for a bit,” He hedged, slyly scooting closer to Stiles without him noticing.

“Well, I talked to Scott this morning. Things are heating up in Beacon Hills again.” Stiles moved towards Derek, so they were only separated by a few inches. 

“Oh, yeah?” Derek lowered his voice. His eyes flicked to Stiles’ mouth.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered back, tracking the movement of Derek’s eyes and smiling widely. “I don’t know how they’re going to deal with whatever trouble they’ve come across without me.”

“Without us,” Derek corrected.

Stiles laughed and pulled Derek in, kissing the man’s lips with an exasperated groan.


End file.
